


Understandings

by AvecPlaisir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2144562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvecPlaisir/pseuds/AvecPlaisir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Black was well aware of the danger of werewolves, but he had never quite expected this.</p>
<p>AU. Sirius is a professor at Howgarts. Remus Lupin is one of his students—one particularly bad at flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius Black looked up from where he had been putting his things into his briefcase, then froze.

Remus Lupin’s face was a few hairs’ breadths away from his own.

Professor Black stumbled back, with a half cry.

“ _Bloody hell_ …!”

Remus Lupin straightened with a barely-there smile.

“Sorry sir,” said Remus.

Sirius gave a wolfish laugh. “Trying to scare me, Lupin?”

“No, sir,” said Remus.

“Good,” said Sirius, grinning. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Because, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I happen to know that werewolves are like women—only scary once a month.”

Remus Lupin look down for a moment and Sirius wondered if he’d been insensitive. But then Remus looked back up, his face nearly unreadable except for the barest hint of a smile tugging on his lips, and Sirius knew his jest had been taken in good humour.

“I wanted to show you something, sir.”

“Well go on, then.”

Remus held up his hands, curled into fists, and pressed them together. His left hand had his thumb tucked away. On his right, he lifted all but his index finger, which was curled around the thumb pressed to his palm. He slowly pulled apart his hands.

“It’s a muggle trick,” said Remus. His mouth was curled deliciously. “To make it look like I’ve severed my thumb.”

Professor Black stared.

“There’s another,” said Remus, leaning forward. He reached forward and curled his hand around Professor Black’s nose. When he pulled his hand away again, his thumb was poking between the other fingers of his closed fist.

“I’ve got your nose,” murmured Remus.

Black placed a hand absently to his nose, mouth curling into a dopey smile, at a loss for words.

“It’s mostly used on children,” Remus shrugged his shoulders. He placed his hands into the pockets of his robes.

Sirius put his hands on his—reasonably fit, if he did say so himself—belly and let out a bark of a laugh.

Remus’s eyebrows drew downward; his mouth twisted in a half grimace, half smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re laughing at me, or with me, sir,” said Remus.

Sirius—grinning, still giggling—wiped tears from his eyes.

***

 

“He’s flirting with me,” explained Sirius to Hagrid. They were in Hagrid’s hut, large mugs of whiskey in front of them, and Fang, the great boarhound, was slobbering all over Sirius’s leg.

“Yeh’re sure abou’ that?”

“Oh, I know he is,” assured Sirius, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. “But he’s just so _bad_ at it. I don’t know whether to rebuke him or give him advice.”

Hagrid chuckled.

“I can’ help yeh none,” said Hagrid. “I swear, yeh’re the on’y professor with tha’ particular problem.”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius sighed, scratching Fang behind the ears.

“Suppose it serves yeh righ’, an’ all. After all the trouble yeh caused when yeh were a lad here. Got some trouble yeh’reself.”

Sirius grinned. “Maybe.”

“Yeh jus’ got ter lay down the law with ‘im. Tell ‘im wha’s wha’. Remus is a good lad. He’ll listen. ”

“The thing is, I don’t want him to leave me alone entirely. He’s a bright kid. Funny. I’ve just got to convince him to stop hitting on me.”

Hagrid chuckled again.

“Good luck."


	2. Chapter 2

Remus sat dejectedly by the stone wall and wondered why he was so bad at getting in trouble.

It may have had something to do with the fact that he usually avoided trouble. In his seven years at Hogwarts, Remus had done everything he could to keep his head down, and his nose clean. He did homework on time, respected curfew and stayed away from forbidden areas. At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea. Most of the staff was cautious with Remus to begin with; a few members would not stand too close to him. Over the years, they had grown more relaxed—for the most part—but Remus had never seen the point of adding ‘troublemaker’ to the list of reasons others didn’t like him.

That is, until Sirius Black had become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Remus would never admit it to anyone who asked, but he’d had several fantasies of getting detention from Professor Black. He’d forget his homework, or show up late, and then he’d have untold hours alone with the devilishly handsome teacher--and at night, no less.

Remus’s fantasies got fuzzy when the detention actually started, but still. The general idea was there. And now Remus had worked up the courage to attempt to purposefully get in trouble. Except that Remus couldn’t bring himself to not do his homework, and Professor Black wasn’t one to punish students for being a few minutes tardy, as long as they didn’t make habit out of it.

So Remus had stood outside of Professor Black’s office after hours, waiting for Professor Black to come back and catch him out of his dorms and give him detention. Except Remus was sure he’d been standing in the exact same spot for nearly two hours and no one had come by.

Except—

Wait. There were footsteps.

Remus stood hastily, heart pounding. This was it.

 

***

 

Sirius yawned. After a long day of classes, and completing his evening rounds, he was ready to go to bed. Unfortunately for him, he still had some papers to grade. But if he worked hard, he’d be in bed in a couple of hours. And, if he didn’t work hard—well. He could always go to bed anyway and deal with it in the morning.

He rounded the corner to his office and paused. Standing outside his door was Snape.

Sirius’s heart-rate picked up, as it always did when he saw the greasy-haired slimeball. However, repeated exposure—and the fact that Sirius was an adult, presumably with adult reasoning skills and an adult maturity level—meant that Sirius no longer felt the urge to punch Snape upon sight. Usually.

Sirius saw that Snape was not alone, but was in fact towering over a smaller figure. A student. Remus.

Sirius sighed; he walked up just as Snape was saying:

“—not be excused for exercising whatever nocturnal habits your kind possess—”

“Severus,” interrupted Sirius. “What’s going on here?”

“I caught _Lupin_ ,” snarled Snape, the name dripping unpleasantly from his lips, “lurking in the hallway outside your office. I don’t suppose you know anything about this, Black?”

And Snape’s beady eyes turned on him.

“Can’t say I do,” said Sirius easily, looking at Remus. But Remus would not meet his gaze.

“ _Detention_ , Lupin,” said Snape. “Come to my office tomorrow night, eight o’ clock sharp.”

Lupin shot Sirius a pleading look, but Sirius shrugged. There was nothing he could do. Remus was out and Snape had every right to punish him.

Snape left, with an added “ _Don’t_ be late.”

“Did you want something?” Sirius asked Remus, now that they were there.

Remus gave a low growl and stalked past Sirius, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “ _You_ were supposed to give me detention.”

“Good night then!” Sirius called cheerfully. 

 

***

 

Remus, not to be deterred, had a new plan a couple of days later. He bought five dungbombs from Lisa Elder for three chocolate frogs and stuffed them in his robes, planning to set them off in Professor Black’s class. But in Transfiguration, while attempting to avoid the dragon that Arnold had transfigured from his chair, he bumped into Vladimir Davis, and the dungbombs were set off, causing the classroom to become cloudy, and several students to begin to choke.

“ _Really,”_ reprimanded McGonagall, through a fit of coughs. “You all are NEWT students—not first years! I expect better than this.”

“Don’t blame us, Professor!” cried one student.

“Yeah, it was Lupin!”

McGonagall waved her wand and the smoke cleared, though a faint odor remained.

“Lupin?” she blinked. She turned her eyes on the boy. “What? Why—what’s gotten into you?”

Remus, eyes watering to the point where he couldn’t see clearly, said miserably, “I didn’t mean to, Professor. I'm sorry. They were in my pocket, and I dropped them….”

“That still begs the question,” said McGonagall severely, “of why you were carrying them in the first place. Ten points from Gryffindor, and I will see you, Mr. Lupin, in detention tomorrow night.”

Remus sighed.

 

***

 

In the teacher’s lounge, Sirius met McGonagall on his way out.

“Alright, Minerva? You look out of sorts.”

McGonagall gave him a withering look.

“Mr. Lupin has set of dungbombs in my classroom,” she said shortly.

“Really?”

“Indeed. And Severus tells me that he caught Lupin in the hall way after hours the other night. I don’t know what’s gotten into that boy.”

“Interesting, isn’t it,” said Snape, coming to stand beside Sirius and entering the conversation uninvited, “that this behavior started only this year. Why,” continued Snape, turning his gaze on Sirius, “I wonder what has changed.”

Sirius ground his teeth.

“It seems,” drawled Snape, lips curling “that he is being influenced by a certain rather… _rebellious_ new teacher.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” growled Sirius. “I’ve had nothing to do with it.”

“He was standing outside of _your_ office that night I found him,” retorted Snape, eyes narrowed. “I told Dumbledore that you would not be a good influence on the students—that, at sixteen, you were capable of murder. Unsurprising, considering your upbringing. He was convinced you had changed, Black. Perhaps this will show him otherwise.”

Sirius whipped out his wand and stepped forward.

“ _Why you little_ —”

“Sirius!” said McGonagall sharply.

Sirius, jaw clenched, lowered his wand.

“And Severus,” continued McGonagall. “Enough. You cannot blame Sirius for Lupin’s actions. And you must let go of this school boy grudge—both of you! You are adults. Act like it.”

With that, McGonagall—temple throbbing—left Sirius and Severus glowering at each other to enjoy a nice cup of tea.

 

***

 

Lupin was antsy. Tapping his foot on the floor, tapping his quill on his parchment whenever he wasn’t taking notes, scratching his wrist as though he had a rash--

Sirius paused several times during the lecture, losing his train of thought. He knew that the rest of his class was having the same problem.

“Bloody hell, Lupin,” snarled Beatrice Knight, when a spasm of Lupin’s arm knocked over her ink pot. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” muttered Lupin, looking embarrassed

At the end of the lesson, Lupin approached Sirius at his desk. But before Lupin could say anything, Sirius spoke.

“You didn’t do the reading,” Sirius said.

Sirius was not accusing Lupin. He was merely stating a fact, made obvious from Lupin's failure to correctly answer simple questions posed about the different types of curses.

Remus raised an eyebrow, his foot still tapping away. “Are you going to give me detention?”

Around them, other students, who had been in the process of leaving, paused on their way out. It was not unusual for Professor Black to lose his temper with a student, but Remus Lupin _never_ got in trouble.

Well, except for this week, where Lupin had got in trouble with both Snape and McGonagall—which just indicated that something really strange was happening. All the more reason to stay and watch.

“Move on, you lot,” Sirius growled at the voyeurs. They did so reluctantly, throwing backward glances. Once they had left, Sirius sat at the edge of his desk, and returned to the topic at hand.

“You _always_ do the reading.”

Remus shrugged, fingers twitching.

Sirius gave him an approving look. “Any particular reason you’re so twitchy?”

Remus grimaced.

“New potion,” was all he said.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “By who?’

Remus shrugged again, stuffing his twitching hands into his armpits.

“Some twat from Italy.”

“Think it’ll work?”

An involuntary shudder passed through Remus.

“Dunno,” he said. “Either way, not sure it’s worth it. He charged my parents a small fortune for just one batch. And the side effects are awful.”

“Yes, I can imagine twitching like a hyperactive toddler isn’t fun.”

Remus shook his head. “That’s not the half of it.”

“Really?” Sirius asked, interestedly. “What else is there?”

But Remus did not answer the question. Instead, he said:

“I wanted to ask what I would miss tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Sirius’s eyes widened “It’s—”

“—time for me to visit my grandmother, yes.”

“Well,” said Sirius. “We will probably have a practical lesson tomorrow, breaking curses. I don’t recommend practicing that on your own, though.”

"Right."

"Just do the reading, yeah?" Sirius said. "And I won't give you detention. I expect you've had enough of that this week."

Remus did not look particularly pleased.

“Alright,” said Remus, turning to leave.

He moved slowly, like an old man. Despite the continuous spasms of his body, there was a stillness in his face, a numbness in his eyes, a stiffness to his jaw.  He looked tired.

“Remus—” Professor Black said, without thinking.

Remus paused and looked back at him.

For a moment, Sirius hesitated, unsure what he wanted to say, caught in that oddly dull stare. But, looking into Remus’s eyes, there was really only one thing _to_ say.

“Take care.”

“Thank you, sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Remus—with the help of surprisingly strong and ever caring Madam Pomfrey—dragged his aching body into the infirmary next morning, there was a box of chocolates and a flower waiting for him on a bedside table.

“Professor Black brought those,” Madam Promfrey informed him while helping him ease onto the bed. “Nice of him.”

Remus closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

“The thing about curses,” stated Professor Black, “is that you really have to understand them to break them. It’s important to take the time to study the curse, figure out what holds it together, what fuels it, and what it’s trying to accomplish. If you focus only on its weaknesses, you’ll end up underestimating it.”

“It’s like what you were saying before, Professor,” said Beatrice. “Control is the most important aspect.”

“Exactly,” said Professor Black, clapping his hands together. “If you don’t have control, the curse—”

“—is as likely to break you,” recited the class.

***

“You’re so pretty,” Remus said.

Professor Black grinned up at him cheekily before ducking his head and swallowing Remus’s—ahem, penis.

Remus tilted his head back as his mind turned to mush. He felt as though there were explosion in his head, and his stomach, in his chest. It was almost too much, almost too good, almost too—

Professor Black swirled his tongue roughly. Remus saw stars.

“You’re so pretty,” Remus panted, in repeat, tilting his head forward to watch. Professor Black, mouth full, spit dribbling down his chin, lips deliciously pink, looked back up at him eyes twinkling.

“Y—,” Remus struggled to say. He reached a hand forward and tangled it in Professor Black’s hair, gripping tight.

“You’re—,” Remus gasped.

Remus felt the grin more than he saw it—felt the lips pulling differently, felt the teeth scraping oh so gently—

Remus jerked awake with a gasp, with a dampness in the front of his pants and with a clear image of Professor Black on his knees.

 

***

“Professor,” said Remus, after yet another Defense class, “being a werewolf is a curse.”

“In a certain sense—yes. It is.”

“Then it could be broken.”

“Well,” Sirius hesitated. “Theoretically. But, Remus, you know better than anybody that we are nowhere close to—”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

“Well, no, it doesn’t, but—”

“—but we shouldn’t even try?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Remus. It’s just important to keep your expectations realistic.”

Remus frowned.

“Even _when_ my expectations are realistic, I’m disappointed.”

“Remus—trust me. I’ve been your age. I thought I could do anything. It was that very overconfidence that led to the deaths of my best friends.”

Remus was silent for a moment. Everyone knew about Lily and James Potter, and their son, Harry. The information was contained in every history book written since it happened. But Professor Black rarely spoke about the Potters. Even when addressed with direct questions.

“Tutor me,” Remus said eventually.

“Absolutely not,” said Sirius.

“Please,” said Remus. “I feel good about this—about us.”

“That’s just it,” said Sirius. “There is no us.”

Remus blinked. “I—you’re my—”

“—teacher. I’m your teacher.”

 “Of course, I know. I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you?” Sirius peered at him.

Remus’s fists clenched. He looked down.

“You left me flowers,” he said.

“A flower.”

“And chocolate.”

“I did.”

“You know—you must know that—that I—”

“Fancy me?”

Sirius spoke the words flippantly. Remus flushed.

“Look,” said Sirius, “I’m not saying that I’d never go for you, Remus. But the fact of the matter is that you’re my student and any interaction other than friendly would be inappropriate.”

“It’s just tutoring.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

Remus frowned.

“So…next year?”

Sirius put his hands up. “I can’t speak to what happens next year, Remus.”

Remus, his own face unreadable, examined Sirius’s.

“You’re having me on,” said Remus coldly. “I’m not a child. You don’t have to spare my feelings. If you don’t like me, say so.”

Sirius gripped his hair.

 “You’re not _listening_ to me! It is not a matter of whether I like you--I like you quite a bit, Remus. But you’re _seventeen_. You change what you like more often than you change your robes. In a year you’ll have forgotten all about me.”

“I won’t.”

“My point is that you don’t know what you want yet.”

“I know I want you.”

Sirius sighed.

“I’m telling you, Remus—it’s not happening. Not now. I’d loose my job and you should be focusing on your NEWTS. If you’re still interested in a year from now? You’ll be out of school, and I’ll be here. Come find me.”

Remus’s expression was dark.

“In a year I might be dead.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Surely you know about the short life-spans of werewolves. There are all sorts of statistics—targets of violence from wizards, homelessness, suicide….”

Sirius’s eyes went from wide to narrow.

“Don’t joke about things like that.”

“Who’s joking? These are facts.”

“Remus—”

“ _You are so amazing_ ,” Remus burst out.

Sirius stared.

Remus, eyes slightly crazed, continued as though possessed:

“You’re handsome and funny and intelligent and you _know_ about—about my condition, but you’re so comfortable with it. You’re the only person I know who jokes with me about it. You treat me like I’m—like I’m _normal_ —you—”

Remus was not crying, but the difference almost didn’t matter.

“—you make me feel _accepted_ ,” admitted Remus, in a breath that was more wobble than words.

Without hesitation Sirius pulled Remus towards him, enveloped him in a fierce hug and pressed his lips to the top of Remus’s head.

“You are normal,” Sirius murmured.

Remus made a strange sound into Sirius’s shoulder.

“And I’m happy to be your friend.”

***

“How’s it goin’ with the boy?” Hagird would ask Sirius, when they were both helping Professor Sprout with weeding.

“Better,” Sirius would say, wiping his brow. “I think we have an understanding.”

“Good,” muttered Hagrid distractedly, yanking on a Tangling Tulip. “Good.”


	5. Chapter 5

Remus never again mentioned the emotional outburst that resulted in his collapse into the strong and not-at-all twig-like arms of Professor Black. In fact, he acted as though it had never happened at all.

The only thing that convinced the Professor that it had in fact happened was that he and Remus Lupin were now Friends.

In Sirius's opinion, being friends with Remus Lupin was equal parts exhilarating and confounding. And only part of that could be accounted for by the fact that Remus was a werewolf.

Remus was, at once, reflective and thoughtless. He spoke at great length about his classes, made insightful comments on modern wizarding society—comments that were in turn bitingly bitter and surprisingly, perhaps naively, hopeful. He would reach for Sirius’s hand, and snatch it back before making contact, face closing. Sirius felt as though Remus’s face were always closing off, as though the boy were constantly walling himself in from the world around him. But, Sirius realized, the fact that he was constantly witnessing Remus shut down meant that Remus was also open, in turns.

Closed off Remus was brittle and silent. He did not raise his hand to answer questions and held himself as though the very air was painful. He did not smile. He did not laugh.

Open Remus smiled and laughed quite a bit. He was more often than not mischievous, and said clever things under his breath. He talked about the things that bothered him, and was willing to be soothed.

Sirius quite enjoyed his and Remus’s conversations. Sometimes the talked about Remus’s lack of a proper social life.

***

“You don’t have mates,” Sirius noted one day, as they were reviewing the finer points of the lesson Remus had missed.

(It is worth noting that Remus also saw Professor Black as both reflective and thoughtless. The man was conscientious enough to not judge others for what they could not help, but was often thoughtlessly cruel.)

Remus’s fingers played with his quill.

(In all honesty, that was one of Remus’s favorite things about Professor Black. That casual cruelty. Remus, for one, was tired of meaningful cruelty.)

“I keep to myself, mostly.”

“You’ve got to have mates, Remus.”

Remus smiled. Professor Black, disinherited son though he was, survivor of the war against Voldemort in which he had lost his closest friends, did not understand alienation. He was always surrounded by people, always had people looking at him, admiring him, speaking with him, touching him. He was a beautiful and wealthy person who could afford to revel in the benefits of being both beautiful and wealthy. He did not understand Remus’s isolation.

“It’s easier to keep secrets when you don’t.”

***

Sometimes they talked about weekend plans.

“Hogsmeade weekend?” asked Remus.

Sirius looked up from his desk. “It is indeed.”

Remus frowned. “That was an invitation, Professor.”

Sirius set down his quill.

“You knew that I would decline, Remus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“At any rate, I’m going with some other Professors.”

Remus blinked innocently. “Professor Snape?”

Sirius gave a growl of a smile. “You know very well that I’m not going to Hogsmeade with Professor Snape.”

“You are making a lot of presumptions about what I know.”

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh.

“Let’s put it this way,” Sirius said. “If I see you there, I’ll say hello.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Brillliant.”

***

Sometimes they talked about the past.

“What was it like?” asked Remus, “Being in the Order?”

“Bloody awful,” said Sirius. “Never knew when you were going to be next to die.”

“Or if.”

Sirius paused.

“Or if,” he agreed.

“And what’s it like?” asked Remus. “Losing your best friends?”

Sirius shook his head. “Terrifying.”

***

Sometimes they talked about the present.

“The leaves are pretty,” Sirius would say, looking out the window.

“You always have to comment on the most inane details,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“They _are_ ,” Sirius defended himself.

“That doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

“Well if I don’t say it, who will?”

“Everyone else.”

***

Sometimes they talked about both the past and the present together.

Sirius would mention that he now the owner of his childhood home, because even though he had been disinherited, his status as a breathing human meant that he was deemed most worthy of receiving the inheritance of all of his dead relatives.

“Some say I’m lucky,” said Sirius, offhand. “I’d say they’re looking at it the wrong way.”

Or Remus would talk about the arrogance of his father, which had caused Remus’s accident in the past, and which meant, in the present, that he made it very hard for Remus to cope.

“He’s indignant,” explained Remus. “He doesn’t like that I keep taking the potions, because he feels like I’m substituting for some sort of lab rat experiment. He doesn’t like the Ministry Regulations, because they treat me like I’m not human. What he doesn’t understand is that _he’s_ not the one living through it. _I_ am. And I _know_ how undignified it all is, but I can’t help it. I can’t change the laws. And how can I stop taking potions when one of them might be a cure?”

***

Sometimes, they talked about the future.

“What do you think it’ll be like, next year?” Remus asked. “I think I’d like to travel a bit. You could take a year off. Or take advantage of the summer. We could see Greece. India.”

“Remus,” Professor Black warned.

***

And once, late at night, when Remus should have gone to bed but was instead seated by the fire in Professor Black’s office, testing the boundaries of their newfound friendship and seeing at which hour the Professor would finally send him away, they had a fight.

Sirius scoffed. “Dumbledore may not be as crazy as the Ministry makes it seem, but there’s something off about the way he conducts his life. He’s overly fond of control.”

“He has every right to be,” snapped Remus, cheeks pink. “He’s one of the bravest, wisest, most intelligent, most powerful wizards—even You-Know-Who was afraid of him!”

“I don’t dispute that he’s a great wizard,” said Sirius slowly. “But he makes mistakes, and he’s never called out for them, because everyone trusts him too much.”

“You can’t trust him _too_ _much_.”

Sirius looked at Remus interestedly.

“I can see he’s already made a pawn out of you,” he said.

In a flash Remus was standing, cheeks red, eyes ablaze.

“He gave me a chance that no one else in the entire world would have,” Remus snarled. “I’m here today because of him.”

Sirius leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands.

“And why do you think that is? Why did he allow _you_ to attend his school when no other headmaster would have, but not extend the opportunity to other young werewolves?  Why did he give Snape a second chance, but allow other repentant Death Eaters to rot in Azkaban?”

Remus, face livid, demanded, “What are you suggesting?”

“Only that he sees some way that you can be useful to him, Remus,” Sirius said, “and that is why he has helped you. And I advise you to consider that, and be careful what you agree to.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” said Sirius. “It’s there. There may be altruism, and a genuine desire to help you. But Dumbledore is not a charity. He wants you on his side. You’re too young to see it.”

There was a flash of a wand, and Sirius felt something slicing his cheek. He gasped, falling back. He was vaguely aware of blood. When he looked up, Remus was gone, the door slamming shut in his wake.

***

Later, Remus does not apologize for his actions, but he does act as though nothing happened.      

 


	6. Chapter 6

The events previously described—The Snapshots of the Lupin-Black Friendship, if you will—took place over a relatively short time period of approximately two weeks, during which Remus was on a general high of euphoria at having succeeding in establishing an actual relationship with the object of his affections.

Remus had been operating under the impression that his status as Professor Black’s friend was a suitable hold upon which to build a romantic relationship later. That Professor Black talked to him after hours and smiled at him during breakfast and offered him chocolate—all of that _must_ mean that the Professor returned his feelings on some level. Even if present circumstances dictated that their relationship remain strictly friendly.

But after the initial euphoria wore off, Remus began to notice troubling incidents.

Such as when he came across a flushed Marley Flecher and an ever-suave Professor Black walking to the Great Hall together one evening.

Or when he noticed Professor Black and Vladamir Davis playing some sort of game with a couple of mermaids by the Great Lake during lunch.

Or when he spotted Professor Black chatting with Beatrice Knight in the library for an extended period of time—an encounter that ended _with Professor Black winking at her._

(Remus was still fuming.)

All this is to say that Remus was beginning to think that becoming friends with Professor Black was not as great an achievement as he had originally thought. It was becoming increasingly clear that Professor Black was friends with many students.

Something that Remus had realized before now—but had never really considered deeply.

(“I’m not the only student who fancies you,” said Remus forcefully, cheeks red.

Sirius looked up from his papers, startled. He hadn’t heard Remus come in.

“Hello Remus,” he hummed.

“In the Common Room,” continued Remus, cheeks reddening even further. “They were playing Fuck, Marry, Kill. And you know what Beatrice said?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“She said that she’d fuck you but not marry you because you seem like you’d be a prat.”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed.

“Smart girl.”)

It’s not that Remus was expecting Professor Black to only talk to him, Remus, but a little differentiation—a little extra appreciation—would have been nice. It was also becoming increasingly clear to Remus that he needed to do something to sweep Professor Black off of his feet, and fast. For all he knew, Professor Black had also told Beatrice to _try again next year._

As though affection could be rescheduled like a holiday vacation.

***

“Okay, Fuck, Marry, Kill round two,” said Beatrice Knight to the crowd around her. “McGonagall, Dumbledore or… _Hagrid_.”

There were three immediate exclamations:

“Ew!”

“Gross!”

“Kill McGonagall!”

There was a pause as everyone eyed Vladamir Davis warily.

“Oh come on,” said Davis defensively, looking around. “She gave me _three_ points on our last test just because I got some names mixed up.”

“Vlad, you said that _Harry Potter_ was the first to come up with an anti-transfiguration spell.”

“Okay, yeah well I forgot who did so I just wrote down the first name I could think of—”

“Harry Potter is _seven_ —”

“If not McGonagall, than who? Don’t tell me you would kill Hagrid!”

This last comment set off another flurry of reactions.

“No, but—”

“I wouldn’t do any of those things to Dumbledore…”

“This is so _hard_ —!”

Remus ground his teeth and pressed his quill more forcefully to the parchment, as though that would help his concentration, and did his best to block out the surrounding noise.

“What’cha got there?” asked Beatrice, peering at his writing.

Remus moved the parchment quickly, attempting to block her view.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

Beatrice snatched the parchment from him. She inspected it for a moment, then let out a laugh.

“What is this?” she cackled. “ _Your eyes are like frostbite—so pretty but—”_

“Give it back,” growled Remus, tugging it out of her hands. 

“Writing poetry now, Lupin?”

Remus didn’t answer. He grabbed his quill and scratched out the line she had just read.

“Hey, do what you want. I’m just teasing,” she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“It means so much to me that you approve,” he deadpanned, looking anywhere but at her.

“Listen,” she said, lowering her voice, “Lisa wanted me to tell you that she’s got some more stuff in stock if you want—Remus?”

Remus was staring out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, standing up suddenly and gathering his things. “I have to go.”

***

“Goin’ out?” Hagrid asked. He was carrying several dead creatures over his shoulder.

Professor Black turned up the collar of his coat. It was only October, but the weather had taken a sharp turn and the past few days had been quite chilly.

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“Here,” said Hagrid, readjusting the creatures. “I’ll walk with yeh to the gates.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Sirius. “Though you really don’t have to.”

“I wan’ ter,” assured Hagrid, falling into step with the Professor. He cleared his throat. “Halloween comin’ up.”

There was a pause before Professor Black answered.

“Yes.”

 “Yeh’re alright an’ all?”

“There’s no need to worry about me, Hagrid. It’s been years.”

“Don’ mean it’s any easier. I know meself—I still miss me dad at times. Gets rough. An’ James and Lily were yeh’re best friends. ‘s understandable.”

“Really, Hagrid. Aside from the fact that Lily’s scarecrow of a sister and her batshit husband won’t let me anywhere near Harry—,” Sirius broke off for a moment, mouth having formed the name uncomfortably, as though it were harder to say than he’d expected it to be, “—I’m fine.”

Hagrid patted Sirius roughly on the shoulder. “Jus’ know yeh can always come ter me.”

Sirius gave half a smile. “Thanks.”

***

As you might have guessed, the thing that Remus saw out of the window that made him get up and leave so suddenly was Professor Black talking to Hagrid, then walking with Hagrid towards the gates. Remus had a hunch where Professor Black was headed—Professor Black had not disapparated once outside of the gates, and there was really only one place you walked to from Hogwarts—and rushed to follow him.

There weren’t many advantages to being a werewolf—most of the time it simply meant that Remus looked sick and got behind in classes. However, there was one distinct advantage in that Remus, when fully furry, could understand other animals.

It was amazing what magical squirrels knew about the school. Namely: secret passageways.

Remus didn’t normally _use_ his knowledge of the passageway that led to Hogsmeade, but he felt, in this case, that the use was justified.

***

Sirius sat by himself at a table in the Three Broomsticks, head in hands, rubbing his temple and trying not to feel sorry for himself.

The thing was, Sirius hadn’t been lying to Hagrid. He hadn’t been feeling particularly bad about Halloween coming up.

Yet.

It always came, every year—the sense of loss hit him as though he’d never felt it before. And every year, Sirius thought he’d be better at handling it. So far, he hadn’t been. And Hagrid’s well-meaning inquiry had brought up feelings he’d been putting off for as long as possible.

_“James,” Sirius, at the tender age of fifteen, had said after watching yet another botched attempt of his best friend to win the affections of one Miss Lily Evens. “You’ve got to stop making a fool out of yourself all of the time. At this rate they’ll put it on your tombstone: James Potter, Constantly Making a Fool of Himself. Thank God He’s Stopped.”_

_“Ah, well that’s where you’re wrong, Sirius,” said James quite seriously. “Because I don’t plan on dying, ever.”_

_“And how exactly do you plan on managing that?”_

_“Same way Nicholas Flamel did it. If he can, so can I.”_

_“They say he’ll die eventually.”_

_“But not yet. And that’s all immortality is. You just got to not die yet, forever.”_

In the present, Sirius chuckled softly.

“Already screwed that one up, James.”

There was the sound of the bell tinkling. Sirius wouldn’t have bothered to look, except Madam Rosmerta said,

“Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?”

Then Sirius did look, and he honestly couldn’t have told you why he was surprised to see Remus.

***

 “I’m here to see Professor Black,” Remus said, hoping that it would suffice as an explanation.

“Well he’s right over there, dear,” Madam Rosmerta said, pointing unnecessarily. The Three Broomsticks, though not quite empty, was nowhere near as full as it was on Hogsmeade weekends, and Remus spotted Professor Black quickly, sitting alone at a table.

He was not smiling.

“Remus,” said Professor Black, as Remus approached. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“I came to read you,” said Remus, “a poem.”

“A poem?”

“I wrote it.” Remus hesitated, eyebrows coming together. “Isn’t that something people like?”

“Remus—”

“Please just let me read it.”

Professor Black put a hand over his eyes. Remus cleared his throat.

_“You are named after a star, and it’s easy to see why_

_You’re like a light in the dark of an endless sky_

_You laugh as though you’ve never felt fear’s bite_

_But I know that you laugh as into the void in spite_

_You are brave, and reckless, and oh so beautiful_

_I--,”_

Here Remus flushed and paused. He skipped to the end of the poem and finished,

“ _I am not religious but I would gladly worship at your feet.”_

There was a pause when Remus finished reading. Professor Black lifted the hand from over his eyes.

“How did you know I was here?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably. “I—er. I followed you.”

Professor Black looked as though he didn’t know whether to be cross or amused. He leaned forward.

“I want to be cross with you, Remus, and I am, but you really could not have come at a worse time—”

“Hello,” said a voice behind Remus.

Remus spun around—more out of shock than desire to see who had spoken—and found himself looking at a cheerful dark-skinned man who looked to be about Professor Black’s age.

“Who’s this then?” asked the man, looking at Professor Black.

“Aamod,” said Professor Black. “This is one of my students, Remus. He’s a seventh year.”

The man named Aamod smiled and stuck out his hand.

“Seventh year, eh? That’s rough. Those N.E.W.T.s are nasty buggers.”

Remus stared blankly as Aamod shook his hand good-naturedly.

"Any idea what you want to do after school?"

"Yes," said Remus. "But it won't happen."

There was a silence. Aamod did not seem to know how to respond, but nodded mutely with a smile fixed on his stupidly handsome face. 

“Well, Remus was just heading back,” said Professor Black pointedly.

“Good meeting you, Remus,” said Aamod.

Remus refrained from growling.

***

Beatrice and Lisa were working on the last of their transfiguration homework in the Common Room when the portrait hole opened and a moody looking Remus Lupin stalked in.

Beatrice gave a low whistle.

“A little late there, Lupin.”

Remus did not respond. Beatrice inspected him more closely.

“What’s your problem? You look like someone stole all of your chocolate again. Hey—this time, I swear it wasn’t me.”

“This isn’t about chocolate,” Remus said. He looked at Lisa. “I need you to get something for me.”

“More dungbombs?” guessed Lisa. “Because those went over so well last time.”

“Not dungbombs. Something else.”

When Remus told her what exactly what it was that he wanted, a slow smile spread over her face.

“That,” she said, “is going to cost you a lot more than three chocolate frogs.”


	7. Chapter 7

The moment Remus Lupin exited the Three Broomsticks, Aamod turned to Sirius and said:

“That boy fancies you.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow even as he raised his hand to call over Madam Rosmerta.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Aamod laughed as he slid into the seat across form Sirius.

“Should I be jealous?”

Sirius chuckled.

“Of what? Want me to assign you an essay?”

The corners of Aamod’s eyes crinkled.

“Two butterbeers,” said Madam Rosmerta, setting down the drinks in between them.

“No firewhiskey tonight?” asked Aamod, after Rosmerta had left.

“I have classes tomorrow,” said Sirius.

“So you were serious about that.”

“Well, I’m always Sirius.”

Aamod let out a groan. Sirius grinned wolfishly at him.

They talked for a while, about various things. Sirius had fallen in with Aamod because he was fun to fuck, and had stuck with him because he was nice to talk to. Aamod was one of those perceptive people, who knew a great deal of wise things and did not take anything too seriously.  Eventually, Aamod returned to the topic of the seventh year, which never quite left the back of his mind, and bothered him for reasons he could not quite pinpoint the origins of.

Aamod said, “But, all joking aside, be careful about him.”

“About who? Remus?”

Aamod nodded.

“He looked like he was going to eat you.”

Sirius’s fingers closed around the bottle in front of him.

“He always looks like that.”


	8. Chapter 8

Outside of the teachers’ conference room, Remus Lupin, leaning casually against the wall, said,

“I was just…standing here.”

He paused, looked up, and added thoughtfully,

“The ceiling is really quite interesting.”

Sirius Black clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said,

“Walk with me.”

They walked. To the edge of the Great Lake and took their respective seats on grass that was slightly prickly.

“Honestly,” said Sirius. “I am _astounded_ by your timing. It takes real skill to mess up like you did.”

“To interrupt your date, you mean? With that man?”

“Yes, but we’re not discussing him. I want to give you some tips.”

“Tips?”

“One, _don’t_ write poetry for someone, unless you’re a trained poet, or unless they’re already in love with you.”

“….”

“And, two. Definitely don’t read it out loud. If you must share it, give it to them in a letter. That way, if it’s bad, they can pretend they never read it.”

“I feel,” said Remus slowly, “that you’re making fun of me.”

“Oh I am,” assured Sirius, with a grin. “But the tips are solid.”

(And perhaps Professor Black should have been sterner. Perhaps he should have been angry. Perhaps he should have wagged his finger and used words like, _You do not own me_ , or   _I am not yours for the taking_. But the fact of the matter was, Professor Black had never been good at being cross or stern with people he genuinely liked.)

“I’ll remember that,” said Remus, leaning forward slightly, “for the future.”

(Many young people suffer from the delusions that the world is theirs for the taking. Sirius Black and James Potter had been such young people. Remus Lupin, like Peter Pettigrew, did not suffer from that particular delusion. They suffered from other delusions.

Remus, for example, at this point in his life, believed that the universe did not hate him, or even feel indifferent towards him. He believed, quite genuinely, that there was a place for him, and that that place happened to be where he was right in that instance—beside the man who laughed at full moons, and smelt of alcohol if you visited him late on a weekend, and who moved with an effortless grace that Remus was starved for.)

Sirius Black smiled, tilting his head.

“Full moon is this Halloween,” he said, then glanced at the young werewolf beside him. “Right?”

(And Sirius, for his part, for all that he had matured since leaving Hogwarts, since fighting in a war against Voldemort, still held onto an arrogance that was perhaps genetic, perhaps learned, but was certainly an essential part of the Black household. Sirius Black, for his part, believed it was perfectly safe to flirt with a just barely of-age werewolf who was obsessed with him.)

Remus nodded. “Right.”


	9. Chapter 9

In Dumbledore’s office the morning the day after Halloween, Dumbledore peered at Sirius over his half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore’s eyes were very cold.

He asked:

“What were you _thinking_?”

Sirius buried his hand in his face. His robes were rumpled, his hair a mess.

“I wasn’t,” he muttered.

Dumbledore made a soft sound, pressing the ends of his fingertips together.

“Truer words you have never spoken, Sirius.”

***

 

The day of Halloween, Privet Drive was awash in the orange glow of pumpkins, in the shouts of children dressed in ridiculous costumes. Sirius Black, in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a small package, walked down the road feeling strangely Muggle.

He headed towards one of the only houses that did not have a pumpkin outside. Number 4 Privet Drive.

He knocked, and waited.

After a prolonged moment, Petunia Dursley answered the door, lips pursed. She eyed his ponytail distastefully.

Sirius Black offered the package to her.

“Please give this to Harry,” he said, as he did every year.

She took the package, and said nothing.

“Can I see him?” he asked, as he did every year.

“Dudley’s out with his father,” said Petunia. "A cowboy this year."

Then she shut the door in his face.

 

***

“Alright,” said Lisa. “Here’s your stuff, Lupin.”

Vladimir’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“You’re giving _that_ to Lupin?” he screeched. “Bloody hell—no wonder he does so well on exams!”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Remus does well because he studies, Vlad. And he’s not going to use it on any exams.”

“How d’you know that?” demanded Vladimir, clearly considering ratting out the both of them.

“Because I am a student of integrity,” Remus said solemnly, holding up his right hand.

“And if you tell McGonagall I’ll get Beatrice to curse your butt cheeks together,” threatened Lisa. “And you won’t be able to shit.”

 

***

“I’m fine,” Sirius insisted, words slurred, eyes unfocused. “I’m _fine_.”

“I think you’ve had enough, is all,” said Aamod practically, prying the bottle from Sirius’s grip. “Oh, cor.”

“Wha’ s’it?” asked Sirius, turning his whole body so that he almost fell out of his chair. But the world was blurry and he could not see straight.

“Your seventh year,” said Aamod, mouth twisting.

Sirius’s mouth pulled into a lopsided smile, even as he could not see what Aamod was talking about.

“He always finds me,” said Sirius happily.

“That’s concerning,” said Aamod.

“Hello,” said Remus.

“Remus,” greeted Sirius, oblivious to Aamod’s disapproval. “Fancy…fancy seeing you…”

Remus’s eyes flickered to Aamod before coming to rest back on his Professor.

“You look sad,” said Remus.

“I am,” said Sirius, “distracting myself.”

“Sometimes distraction is healthy.”

Sirius gave a too-loud laugh.

“James used to say that,” smiled Sirius, then added, "You would have liked James."

 “Sirius,” said Aamod, standing. “I’m taking you home.”

“But not to fuck me,” said Sirius, suddenly moody.

“No,” agreed Aamod lightly, pulling Sirius up by the arm. “You’re off your arse.”

“I can take him,” offered Remus.

“Like hell,” said Aamod.

 “I thought we agreed,” drawled Sirius, stabbing Aamod in the chest with a finger, “that you wouldn’t be _clingy_.”

Aamod’s expression darkened.

“We’re going,” he snapped. “ _Now_.”

 

***

 

Remus did not know where Professor Black lived, but the nice thing about Felix Felicis was that while you were on it, you didn’t need to know much of anything at all.

 

 ***

Minerva McGonagall swept into Dumbledore’s office, looking especially pinched about the mouth.

“Poppy’s got him sleeping now,” said McGonagall to Dumbledore. “The potion he took damaged some of his nerves, but she thinks she will be able to mend the damage.”

“Thank you, Minerva,” said Dumbledore. “Have her notify me when he wakes up.”

“Don’t involve the boy, Headmaster” Sirius said.

“Unfortunately, Sirius, he is already involved.”

“It’s my fault. He’s just a child. He shouldn’t be punished.”

“As touching as your selfless words are, and as little joy I take in this matter, action must be taken. As for punishment—we shall see.”

 

***

Remus had arrived at Sirius’s flat exactly 3 minutes after Aamod had left.

(Later, Remus would try to justify his actions.

“I want you,” said Remus, stepping closer. “I really, really want you.”

“That doesn’t give you a right to me,” replied Sirius, rather coldly.

Remus would blink up at him.

“Doesn’t it?”

And now, Sirius used the words he should have all along.

“You do not  _own_  me.”)

***

 

(But before all of that the bed was soft and warm, and there were lips and teeth and faster, harder,  _more_. And Sirius laughed the whole time like a man unhinged, and Remus smiled softly, so entirely happy.

And then there was the full moon, and an explosion of fur, and claws, and then there was a motionless werewolf lying on Sirius’s bedroom floor, and Sirius thought it was dead.)

 

***

 

“I can’t believe—,” Sirius said, then stopped, because it was too early in the morning, and he was finally sober, had been woken up by a frantic floo call, and Remus was not in fact dead, but Remus was lying oddly, and Sirius’s  memories were too muddled yet too painfully clear, and he could not believe.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked, kneeling over the boy, and not understanding how one could look so calm and so close to death at the same time. Not understanding how one who said things like ‘ _The most effective anti-werewolf thing the Ministry does is convince werewolves that they’re not really human’_  could do something so incredibly stupid.

“Yes,” breathed Remus, blinking. His entire body felt odd, and not completely there, but it wasn’t painful.

“Well that’s brilliant,” said Sirius. “Fantastic. I’m glad this all worked out, then.”

“You’re angry with me,” Remus realized.

“Yes I am.”

“Sirius,” Remus started to say.

Sirius’s eyes bugged out. “Sirius? You’re calling me  _Sirius_  now?”

“Professor—”

“AND THAT’S THE RUB!” Sirius shouted, quite deranged. “YOU’VE  _FUCKED_  YOUR PROFESSOR!”

For the first time since Sirius had known him, Remus looked frightened.


End file.
